


Twink

by MissDrarryDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Dracobeingstupid, Homophobia, M/M, MutualPining, UST, andlookingfabulous, boyswearingmakeup, dracolustingafterharry, feminineharry, flangst, harrydrivingdracoinsane, homophobicslurrs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21535495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: Harry enjoys wearing makeup and leather and crop tops. He enjoys tight clothing and indulging in what's generally considered 'feminine'. In his Eighth Year, free from Voldemort and the like, he can finally express himself, and he's never been happier. Until he starts receiving hateful anonymous letters from someone who isn't as happy about Harry's change. Help comes from someone Harry hadn't really expected it from, help, and then some...//Completed//Word Count: 6.4k
Relationships: Drarry - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 301





	Twink

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: There is homophobia/homophobic slurs featured in this fic.
> 
> I put it in the tags but I also wanted to put a fair warning here too.

The worst mistake Draco has ever made thus far in his life was coming to breakfast that morning. 

Why?

Because now he's nursing a painful erection in the middle of class, while suffering an even more painful loss of dignity.

It's all Potter's fault naturally.

Apparently, he'd made a quite rude and incredibly annoying decision recently to start wearing _eyeliner_. Paired with _leather jackets._ As well as his usually nauseating messy hair and green eyes.

Draco is convinced it's all a ploy to kill him.

It's working _wonderfully._

The aforementioned murderer-to-be had waltzed into the Great Hall for breakfast all smiles and snark, clad in a black leather jacket and faded jeans, black eyeliner drawn around his impossibly green eyes, hair a mess as always. 

Draco spat out his tea all over Pansy, who was not best pleased, and was about to yell at him, until she, too, turned around and looked at Potter. 

Though the sight did not have the intended effect on her as it did on Draco, because her lips curled up into a slow, sadistic smirk Draco had come to fear. 

"Well, well darling.." She drawled, spelling the tea out of her hair and robes. "Looks like your lover boy brushed up nicely doesn't it?" 

And Draco had wanted to argue, really, he had fully intended to say _something_ to disprove her, but as it would happen, by a wholly unfortunate coincidence, Potter had chosen that exact moment to shrug his jacket off, leaving him in a far too tight shirt, buttoned up only halfway, and words had swiftly become a lesser priority to Draco's mind.

"My, he _really_ _has_ brushed up.." Pansy muttered under her breath, doing a much better job of discreetly observing than Draco, who was certain his jaw was on the floor and even more certain he was drooling. His suspicions were proven correct when Pansy flicked him on the nose: "Close your mouth darling, you'll catch flies." He shook his head and blinked, trying to whisk away the image seared into his mind. 

"What the _fuck_ is Potter _wearing_?" Draco raked his eyes over the bane of his existence once more, before firmly gluing them to Pansy, who was adorned with her most insufferable _i-know-exactly-how-badly-you-want-to-get-in-his-pants_ smile:

"Clothes, what else?" 

Draco grit his teeth and jammed his fork into his poor eggs just a tad bit more forcefully than was necessary:

"I can _see_ that, I meant, what kind of fucking hideous clothes are those?" 

She bared her teeth, the evil hag that she was:

"I don't know, I'd say it rather suits him, wouldn't you agree?" 

Draco resisted the flush threatening to rise and scowled at his friend:

"He looks _ridiculous._ "

Not one to step down, Pansy countered far too calmly:

"He looks like every wet dream you've ever had." 

That was not true. If Draco were to get technical about it, most of his wet dreams featured Potter _naked_ , but he was smart enough to rationalize now was not the time for technicalities. 

" _Please_ , I've got standards Pansy." He knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"Draco honey, Potter _is_ your standards." 

And _damn_ her but it was true.

So _now_ Draco was in class, with a boner that refused to wilt, no matter how hard he tried, ruing the moment he decided eating breakfast was necessary. To make it all worse, Potter was sitting _right_ next to him, his eyeliner and scruffy hair far too close for comfort, while he dutifully took notes and listened to the teacher drone on about whatever-the-fuck they were supposed to be learning, looking for all the world like he hadn't a thing to worry about. All the while Draco was slowly dying next to him. 

How _rude._

Draco was sorely tempted to snap at Potter, or make fun of his makeup, or _something_ , but he didn't exactly trust his voice at the moment. Or his body. Especially not his cock. 

After the war, Potter and he had become something resembling _friends_ , though Draco dared not call it that. And it felt _wonderful_ at the start, now though, Draco despised that too, because it made Potter think it was _okay_ to turn towards him, putting his ghastly face on full display, and lean in, assaulting Draco with his horrid shampoo, to ask if Draco had a spare quill because his broke.

_Honestly. Have people no manners these days?_

After swallowing convulsively a few times, and reminding himself how to breathe, as Potter still had not moved away, but was rather studying Draco's face quite intently, Draco nodded and clumsily fished out a quill to pass over. Potter smiled and thanked him, effectively killing any resolve Draco might have had left, finally turning away and back to his notes. 

Draco couldn't bloody wait for lessons to be over, he _really_ needed some privacy. To, err...sleep. Of course. 

The rest of that day was shit.

~

If Draco had known he'd be subjected to this _torture_ before he returned to school, he never would have come back. 

Because Potter wearing makeup and tight clothing was _not_ a one time occurrence. Nope, it was a _everyday_ thing apparently. 

And it was _really_ wreaking hell on Draco's libido.

Potter had never seemed happier, and all his friends seemed just as joyful for him, and Draco had taken to skipping dinner in favor of _other_ more pleasant activities. 

However, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Potter...in a mint green _crop-top._ Pansy had a merry time laughing at Draco swallowing his own bloody tongue when Potter's toned stomach and lower back dimples came into view. 

Draco ran to his dorm the moment he could, missing the full day of lessons.

_Merlin to fucking Christ._

_~_

Pansy's smug smirks were a bitch to endure in the days following the crop top incident, but luckily, Potter didn't seem inclined to wear it more often. Draco had gotten so used to Potter showing up with eyeliner or eyeshadow on his face, framed by his fucking glasses, gotten so used to seeing him in tight jeans and shirts that in turn left Draco's own trousers tight, that the morning he came down in regular robes and no makeup nearly gave Draco a stroke. 

He'd completely forgotten what Potter looked like before. 

Draco had to take a double take to assure himself it really was Potter. He looked so.. _plain_ like this, though not any less desirable. He also looked positively _miserable_ , and it did _things_ to Draco's chest, things he did not wish to think about. 

Still, the sullen look on Potter's face as he picked at his food was a fucking _horrid_ thing to endure through the mealtimes, and Draco was seriously considering admitting himself to the Janus Thickey Ward considering _he_ felt like shit, just for the fact that Potter looked so _sad._

Then, just before dinner, Granger and Weasley came stomping over to him, dragging Potter behind them. Draco swallowed, ready to be cursed or hexed, or in some way punished for his past transgressions.

Instead, Granger's eyes were red and Weasley looked tired.

"Was it you Malfoy?" The redhead asked, and Draco saw Potter sigh behind them. He was flabbergasted, as he had no bloody clue what it was they suspected he had done:

"Was I--what?" It wasn't the most eloquent thing on the world, granted, but it was the best he could splutter at the time. Granger ran a hand through her thick, frizzy hair, sighing deeply:

"Was it you? Behind those letters?" 

_Letters_? What-- _what_ letters? 

Potter perked up then, and started to tug at his friends:

"It wasn't Malfoy guys, come _on_." 

Weasley gave him a pointed look and Granger's eyes were glued to Draco.

"Harry--" Weasley attempted but Harry scowled fiercely at him:

"It's _not_ him. He wouldn't do that, he's changed. Besides, we're friends now, come on leave him alone. Sorry Malfoy--" Potter mumbled all at once and dragged them both away, leaving Draco with even more questions than he had at the start of the exchange.

Letters?

 _Friends_?

What in the ever loving fuck?

Draco felt quite stupid standing there, though he was quite determined to find out just _what_ he was being suspected of, because he'd been _good_ this year. He really had been! Didn't insult anyone, helped whenever he could, wasn't a pretentious little shit.

So, naturally, he followed Potter as subtly as he could, until he finally tracked him entering a bathroom. Squaring his shoulders, Draco waited a few moments before following in, trying to appear as casual as possible. When he entered he found Potter putting on eyeliner, and his heart stuttered. It was one thing to see the finished product, but it was quite another to watch the magic happen. Quite literally. Draco felt entranced watching Potter carefully draw around his eyes, framing them perfectly. The spell was broken when Potter noticed him standing there and froze for about a second, before flushing fiercely, and quickly going to wipe it off.

"Don't--" It was out of Draco's mouth before he'd realized he'd said it. He'd spoken louder than he might have wanted to, but it worked. Potter stopped and slowly nodded. 

He tilted his head and studied Draco for a moment, and more of those chest feelings bubbled in the blonde, threatening to make him do something ridiculous, like..like.. _kiss_ Potter. 

He shook his head and remembered why he'd come in the first place. Clearing his throat, Draco spoke:

" _What_ was that with Granger and Weasley about earlier?"

Harry shrugged, biting his lip, shoulders deflating:

"Nothing, it's just..someone doesn't like that I..Nevermind, it's really not a big deal."

Draco was determined however:

"No, no, _tell_ me." 

Harry sighed and turned to the mirror above the sink, leaning on it. He chewed his lip in contemplation, before seemingly deciding he had nothing to lose:

"Someone doesn't like that I like to wear makeup, that I'm... _gay_ , and so..they decided to let me know."

Draco clenched his jaw and waited for Harry to continue, though something was already pulsing at the back of his mind.

"It's just..." He continued after a moment, and then pressed his lips into a thin line. Harry reached into a robe pocket and pulled out a stack of letters and notes, passing them to Draco wordlessly.

The blonde picked out one after another and opened them to read:

_'Fucking twink. Some fucking Savior you are.'_

_'The Wizarding World don't need dykes like you. If the public had known what you were like, they'd have spat you out of Britain before the Dark Lord ever got the chance.'_

_'It's disgusting how you walk around like some fucking fairy, thinking you're all that. The Chosen One is a bloody sham.'_

_'The Golden Boy likes it up the arse, he's a sodding nelly.'_

Draco had been angry before. He'd been furious. However, it had never quite consumed him like this before. He was seeing fucking red, gripping the notes so tightly he was in danger of ripping them apart. He was sure he might've even growled at one point or another. The enraged pulsing at the back of his mind was now a vicious thumping behind his eyelids, and he took a deep breath, though it didn't help much.

"This--This is absolute _bollocks!_ They can't just--- _Potter---_ " He couldn't even finish a sentence.

Harry had a hint of a ghostly smile on his face when Draco finally looked up at him.

"Breathe Malfoy." He calmly beckoned, but Draco didn't really hear him.

"Sod that!" Before he even realized what he was doing, he had grabbed Harry's wrist and began dragging him back to the Great Hall where dinner had already started, ignoring the feeble protests he was putting up. "We're going to find this arsehole." He announced and slammed into the Great Hall, glare scathing on absolutely everyone. Harry was still valiantly attempting to pull away, but he seemed to have realized by now that it was fruitless and had just gone limp, letting Draco lead him along.

The blonde stopped in the middle of the Hall, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. He held up the letters high:

"When I find out whose fucking handwriting this is--" He cleared his throat, and pulled out his wand, pointing at the stack of parchment:

 _"Erat Chirographum Decreti Revelare."_ He muttered the spell he remembered his father had used during the war to validate all of the written correspondence between him and the various Ministry officials he'd bribed and make sure there was no shady business, checking the handwriting and such.

As soon as he'd cast, a name materialized above the paper. _Cormac McLaggen._

Draco's glare zeroed in on the blonde Gryffindor and he cast a Levicorpus on him, hoisting him up into the air by his ankle and floating him over to the front while he thrashed in the air and spat insults left and right. Harry seemed astonished next to Draco, as Cormac came face to face with them. 

"Why?" The raven asked him, brows furrowed and McLaggen leered though he looked quite fucking stupid dangling by his ankle like he was.

"Because you're supposed to be a bloody hero not some fucking--" He cut himself off and Draco glowered, magic pooling in his wrist as he ached to hex him into the next lifetime:

"Finish that sentence I dare you." 

The blonde idiot pinned Draco with a utterly pitiful attempt at an intimidating glare and hissed:

"Not some fucking _faggot._ "

That was _it._ Draco had clocked him so hard he'd sent him flying out of range of his own spell, sending him sprawling on the floor. He was sure he'd broken his nose, and wasn't sorry in the slightest. Cormac was cursing up a storm as he scrambled to his feet, face burning with humiliation, nose bleeding as he stomped out of the Great Hall to go see Pomfrey.

Draco only vaguely registered the stinging of his knuckles as he shook his hand out, pocketing his wand. Harry came to stand in front of him, eyes shining, smiling wide:

"That was _incredible_. Thank you Malfoy." He nodded, and chuckled. "Now I regret not making friends with you sooner." His eyeliner was a bit smudged, but Draco found him beautiful all the same.

And just like that, all the anger Draco had felt melted away and he found himself grinning back:

"Oh you think I did it for you? Potter _please_ , don't be barmy, I always wanted to punch that arsehole."

Harry laughed and hugged him briefly, almost tentatively, before buggering off to his gaping friends, leaving Draco to head to his own table, where Pansy looked like she might burst from pride.

He couldn't help but marvel at the fact Harry considered them _friends._ More concerning chest feelings fluttered, but this time Draco didn't shy away from them.

~

Few days later, Harry was back to giving Draco daily boners and taxing as it was to wank three to four times a day, Draco was glad Harry was back to himself. It was strange really, to be so infatuated with someone. Felt kind of tingly and jittery and very strange overall, but Draco didn't mind too much. Especially since Harry talked to him more often now, even Granger and Weasley making stilted conversation once in a while. Even the students had warmed up to him more now that he'd shown he did actually have a heart. 

Overall, life was good.

Until.

Until Draco found Harry sniffling while dragging a black trash bag outside to dump it into the bin Hagrid had set up to keep the grounds clean.

"Potter, are you, err, okay?" Draco still felt a bit awkward asking things like that, just talking to the raven in general, but Harry's face lit up infinitesimally upon seeing him, and that made it _so_ worth it:

"I--err, yea.." He seemed to realize he wasn't fooling anyone though, because he chucked the trash into the bin and admitted quietly: "No, I'm not."

So naturally, Draco pestered him for fifteen minutes until he broke down and told Draco what happened. Cormac had come knocking on his door an hour prior, saying he wanted to apologize for what he'd done, how he'd realized his behavior was completely out of line, and Harry, being the good hearted fool he was, had let him in to hear him out. He went on this whole tangent about acceptance and that he'd learned from his mistake, and even asked Harry to show him his makeup collection. Harry did, and let him look. He seemed genuinely interested. When Harry turned his back though, Cormac set the makeup on fire and whirled around and punched Harry before he could get his wand out. They scuffled around before Harry finally managed to toss McLaggen out, but by then it was too late to save the cosmetics. They were burned either to a crisp or were charred so bad they were ashen and unusable. So Harry scooped them into a black bag and went down to throw them out.

Draco was seriously pondering whether Harry would be willing to testify on his trials again, this time for _murder._

He looked absolutely heartbroken and Draco just couldn't _bear_ that expression on his face.

"C'mon Potter, you're coming with me." He announced, and before Harry could protest, Draco had him out of the grounds and into Hogsmeade. One of the many perks of being an Eight year was that they were free to dress how they liked, had their own dorms, were free to leave the grounds at any time as they were all adults. Draco had left a hasty note to Hagrid so someone knew where they were and he and Harry were off.

Draco pulled him into every cosmetic shop, insisting on replacing all the makeup Cormac had ruined. Harry resisted at first, but he thawed soon enough, perking up at the prospect of picking out eyeshadows and eyeliners and even lipsticks and he was smiling widely and Draco was seriously head over heels besotted for him. 

He tried to pay for it, but Draco had scoffed and knocked his hands away, paying for everything himself, despite Harry's loud grumbling. 

When they were finally done, they fell into an easy silence while wandering through the small village.

"The makeup I had, it belonged to Tonks. She..she was the first person I told about my fascination with these more feminine things. She was supportive and helped me figure it out, taught me how to use it all, and really, it was so much fun. Tonks gave me a bunch of her old makeup, and I've had it ever since." Harry started speaking out of nowhere, and Draco clung to his every word like a puppy.

"Then the War came and there was no space for things like that. And now it's over and I can be myself after so long and I just.." He trailed off, swallowing thickly. He never finished his sentence, but Draco didn't pester. His heart was heavy with emotion, he couldn't speak even if he wanted to.

"Why'd you do all this for me?" Harry finally asked, green eyes turning to Draco, endlessly deep and fucking gorgeous.

Draco's mouth dried, and he didn't know what to do, what to say. He couldn't tell him the truth, he wasn't ready for that, but he didn't know how to lie convincingly enough either. Harry patiently waited for an answer, silent, and Draco was starting to panic. He didn't know what to say, what to tell him, something that couldn't be misconstrued in any way, yeah, something simple. Draco was never very brave after all:

"Because I owe you." He spoke, finding that to be the safest, most neutral response. He knew he'd said the wrong thing at once, if the way Harry's eyes shuttered was any sign to go by, but the raven just nodded, a smile that didn't quite reach up gracing him:

"Right. Of course. Thanks I guess." He muttered and they made their way back to the castle in a thick, uncomfortable silence.

~

In the days that followed, Draco repeatedly kicked himself for messing up, but it didn't matter. There was no going back from it now, and he supposed he'd just have to learn to live with Harry's distance again. He'd drawn away from Draco since their Hogsmeade trip, and while he was never hostile or rude, he was just very reserved, and Draco could only assume it had something to do with what he'd said, but he couldn't be sure and he really bloody hated the rift between them. It was going so well, as well as Draco could have ever hoped it would, Harry had even said he'd considered them friends, and now..Now there was nothing again. 

~

Harry liked Draco. He _really_ liked Draco. It could even be said he _loved_ Draco. Especially after Draco had went so far to help make him feel better and stand up for him. And he'd hoped..maybe Draco liked him too? 

But of course he didn't. He did it just to repay his debt. Nothing more to it. 

Harry shouldn't have felt as crushed by that as he did, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't an idiot, he noticed the incessant staring, he noticed Draco's eyes were almost constantly glued to him. At first, he tried to dismiss it, didn't want to let himself falsely hope, but it became so hard to deny himself the want when Draco stood up for him in the middle of the Hall, and broke McLaggen's nose, then later, when he took Harry to Hogsmeade to buy him all the makeup McLaggen had ruined, scowling whenever Harry offered to pay himself. He looked so soft and radiant then, Harry had earnestly hoped. 

Only to have those hopes crushed cruelly. 

His heart had sunk deep into his boots when Draco had told him he only did it because he owed Harry, but he schooled himself and nodded, pretending everything was okay when it wasn't. After that, he just felt torn, he'd grown distant with Draco, convinced himself it would hurt less if he could just detach himself. It didn't. In fact, all of Draco's attempts at conversation that Harry shut down as politely as he could hurt as well. But he couldn't go back to the way it was before anymore. So he kept himself to himself and firmly decided to try and move past this love that would lead nowhere.

~

It was so insane, how one person could turn Draco on so much while simultaneously making him feel like he had a knife twisted in his gut. Harry was always a fucking sight to behold, and Draco always beheld him, but the lonely silences that surrounded him always felt like someone had poured molten lava over him. 

One bright morning, Harry had finally done it. Finally managed to drive Draco completely insane. He still wouldn't talk to him, but what he apparently _would_ do, was come down in skinny fucking jeans and a fucking..a fucking _sheer shirt._ A black sheer shirt that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The see through black fabric had all of the lean, lithe Quidditch muscles on full display, somehow beating the crop top. 

"Draco..don't look, but Potter is.." Pansy tried, but it seemed that _finally_ she too, was getting the jist of Draco's plight.

 _"Merciful Helga_.. _"_ Was all the response Draco's brain could conjure. All the blood from it was rapidly travelling somewhere different. 

"Indeed." Pansy agreed, gawking at Potter and the expanse of his shoulders, the curve of his spine and those two fucking dimples at the bottom of his back. Potter's back wasn't any easier to face than his front and it was ridiculous how hot Draco's blood boiled. The fact he was keeping his distance from Draco was all Draco could really do to keep from shoving him into the nearest wall. 

That however did not solve the issue of the sheer shirt and fact Draco had taken to wearing robes three times his size to hide certain things. 

Breakfast was't even through, _Jesus Christ_ , Draco had no idea how he'd face the rest of the day.

~

Especially the DADA class. Their new professor was brutal. Not just in having them practice defensive and offensive spells, but having them exercise physically too. _'You never know when you'll find yourself in a fiddle, you won't always have your wand. It's important to be physically prepared as well as magically.'_ Draco had wholeheartedly agreed at the beginning of term, but today he really hated the woman. _Really._

Because she'd partnered him with Harry for practice at the start and now it couldn't be changed.

Draco couldn't believe how unlucky he was. Usually, the two of them were the best in the entire class, but today Draco was sure he'd die before the hour was up. Harry faced him on the mat with an impassive face, still in that fucking shirt, and Professor Collido advised Draco to take off his robe, which Draco vehemently refused. He knew his mobility would be highly restricted in it, but his dignity held priority. 

When she announced all the pairs could start practice, Harry had Draco down on his back in no time at all, Draco's brain too slow to react. Harry was straddling his hips and pinning his wrists above his head, holding him down, something alight in his eyes, and Draco nearly whimpered. 

"Come on, Mr.Malfoy, use your leg to gain leverage and roll him off." The woman dittered, but truth was, Draco didn't really want to throw Harry off. His weight felt wonderful atop Draco and his face was so close Draco could study the lines and curves of the eyeliner framing his eyes leisurely. The only downside was, Draco couldn't kiss him. Though he really, _really_ wanted to.

"Err Malfoy? Are you going to throw me off?" Harry asked, that single question comprised of more words than Harry had uttered to him in a week now. Draco attempted to glare at him, his cock throbbing, trying to make a show of squirming as if he was valiantly struggling to get free, when he was actually content to lay under Harry for the rest of his life. _Merlin he was whipped._

However, that squirming brought his cock into contact with Harry's thigh and Draco sucked in a harsh breath, stilling immediately. Harry stilled above him too, muscles going taut in a most delectable way, the shirt generously exposing them. 

"Draco..?" Harry muttered quietly, bringing his eyes to meet Draco's in mute disbelief. Draco could have gone insane with lust by now, but he could swear there was something hopeful in his voice. He was so, _so_ close...

"Mr.Malfoy! We don't have all day!" The professor snapped, and broke the moment. Draco hooked a leg around Harry's waist, digging his heel into his lower back and pushed against it, gaining leverage and finally rolling him off, ending up on top of him. This position worked for Draco too, he found. Harry looked bloody gorgeous under him, flushed and lightly sweaty, hair mussed up from their tumbling. Draco hastily scrambled off before he did something stupid he'd regret forever, reality crashing down rapidly, righting his robes furiously, catching his breath. 

"That was excellent Mr.Malfoy, if a bit delayed. You must be quicker to react should you ever find yourself in a situation like that." Collido advised and Draco swallowed convulsively, nodding at her. She meant well for all her students, and didn't seem to judge him for the brand on his arm. He respected her for that. Harry stood up too, and ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it even more as he arched an eyebrow at Draco, who refused to look at him, flushing a blotchy pink.

This was not good. He knew Harry would never really feel the same way, want him the same way, and he could only hope Harry had good enough grace not to bring this up. 

After that class was over, Draco skipped the rest and headed straight back to his dorm, to have a shower and a wank and sleep this wretched day off. 

~

When the DADA class had finished, Harry was convinced he'd either finally lost his marbles or he'd eaten something rotten but he could have _sworn_ something hard had brushed against his thigh whilst he had Draco pinned beneath him. He was so focused on not getting hard though that he might have imagined it. There was something in Draco's eyes however, something deep and wanton that had Harry convinced it wasn't all in his head. He had planned to confront Draco about it, but the blonde had disappeared after that class and didn't return for the rest of the day. Harry pondered what it was that passed between them, if maybe what Draco had told him that day in Hogsmeade wasn't the complete truth..? Harry scolded himself for hoping again but he couldn't shake off the feeling he was missing something crucial. 

~

After spending a full night contemplating it, Harry had decided that he had to take drastic measures to find out what's really going on. He figured shocking Draco would be the best way to pry and get a honest response out of him. If he went careful and slow, Draco might close up and tell him something that wasn't true, like Harry hoped was the case in Hogsmeade. And if his plan went awry, well, it wouldn't be the first time Harry would have to lick his wounds and move on. The next morning, Harry spent quite a bit picking out what to wear. In the end he settled for his crop top and jeans, figuring he didn't wear that top often and he was quite fond of it. He was so happy all his friends were a hundred percent behind him, though Ron did often tease him. Still, despite that, Ron and Hermione were currently in detention because they put McLaggen in St.Mungo's. Surprisingly enough though, it wasn't Ron who had lost his temper, it was Hermione. She cast Stinging Hex after Stinging Hex at him, until she'd marred his bones and Ron had helped by breaking a few ribs. She'd been awfully protective of Harry ever since he first explained to them how he enjoyed wearing things generally considered feminine and how he had an affinity for makeup. His interests went back a long time, back to the Dursleys even, when he'd picked through his aunt's makeup and she'd slapped him when she caught him. Since then he always kept his desires secret but he'd nicked a tube of lipstick off her, and put it on in his cupboard sometimes. It was messy and he probably applied too much of it, but he liked feeling the weight of it on his lips, liked to lick it off and felt kind of... _pretty_. As he grew up he came to realize boys couldn't enjoy these things so he spent a period of his life feeling ashamed and conflicted with himself, until he'd finally broken down one night and told Tonks everything, expecting to be scolded. Instead, she calmly helped him wipe his tears and talked him through how it was okay to like whatever he liked, that he shouldn't be ashamed. She'd given him the first makeup he'd ever owned, which was now in ashes, he thought bitterly, and helped him to stop feeling guilty about it. The war had been a damper on everything for a while though, but now it was over and Harry was _free._ To wear what he liked, look how he wanted and just express himself how he saw fit. And he'd be damned if he let anyone stop him ever again.

"Looking fabulous Harry!" Dean smiled at him as they all headed down to breakfast and Harry chuckled and waved him off. He'd inspired a few boys to be more confident with what they liked too, for example Seamus, who'd stopped hiding that he liked to wear lace and lingerie sometimes. It drove Dean absolutely mad when his boyfriend did that, so Harry really didn't know why Seamus had been hiding it in the first place, but it seemed to be for the very same reasons Harry had kept it secret. Or Neville, who liked to wear perfume but was embarrassed about it, until he saw how no one gave Harry or Seamus any shit, so now he went around the dorm smelling all flowery and fresh. It was a good thing, and Harry really hated McLaggen for managing to make him feel ashamed of it. Though that didn't matter anymore. Draco had stood up for him and so did Ron and Hermione, so Harry was pretty confident now. He entered the Great Hall with his friends and searched the tables for the head of shock white hair. It wasn't hard to spot Draco, then again, it had never been hard for Harry to spot Draco, he was drawn to the blonde like a moth to a flame. With a deep breath, Harry collected all of his Gryffindor courage, and stalked up to him, seemingly startling him somewhat.

"Malfoy, can I talk to you? Outside?" He asked, voice wobbling only a little. Draco looked dubious at best but eventually he nodded and followed Harry out of the Hall. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Harry spun around, not letting himself hesitate anymore. He cradled Draco's face and kissed him gently but firmly. His eyes fluttered closed as he explored the shape of Draco's lips, soft beneath his, warmth shocking down his spine and through his brain, a fuzzy sort of chant mesmerizing him. Draco wasn't responding though, and after a second Harry pulled away, heart heavy as lead in his chest. The blonde was blinking at him in wonder, and Harry forced his voice out:

"I wanted you to know." 

Then he turned, hurriedly walking away back up to his dorms, not feeling particularly hungry. It seems he'd imagined the moment in DADA, that Hogsmeade meant nothing after all. Harry had suspected this would be the case somewhere in the back of his mind, but he still stubbornly ploughed on and went through with his silly idea anyways. He wasn't sorry, no, but he was hurting. Well, that was just life. Just as he was about to round the corner to the staircase heading up to the dorms, he felt himself pulled back by his wrist, in a flurry of movement finding himself pressed into a wall, just barely sparing a second to recognize Draco's face before a pair of lips was pressed to his hungrily. Stewing his shock away, Harry responded just as fiercely, a fire coiling in his stomach. Draco pressed closer, nearly lifting Harry off his feet, his tongue prodding out, sliding into Harry's mouth, pressing against Harry's own, slipping over his teeth and exploring thoroughly. Harry was breathing shallowly through his nose, and grabbed at Draco's shoulders to steady himself, one hand tracing up into his blonde hair, gripping it. A loud, unrestrained whimper tore from the back of Draco's throat and Harry was going dizzy. He felt nearly crushed between the wall and Draco's body, but he couldn't think of a better way to die anyways, so he didn't complain much when Draco pushed even closer, as if he could never get close enough. 

Surfacing for air was a vexing task, though they managed to separate their mouths just enough to take proper breaths. Harry's head was still spinning, his heart thrummed violently inside his chest, but slowly, he regained himself, while Draco seemed to be doing the same thing. The shock Harry had benched was now dancing merrily in front of his face, and he felt it open a door to a trickle of doubt. What if this too was part of the repayment Draco had talked about? Harry sincerely wished it wasn't, that it came from a genuine place of attraction, but he couldn't be sure. He cleared his throat, and tried to form words. It took his addled brain a few tries, but finally, he managed:

"Listen, I don't want anything if you're only doing it because you owe me something."

Draco's brows furrowed, before a blank horror dawned in his eyes as he realized what Harry was talking about:

"No, no, _no--_ I didn't mean that--" He hastily tried to explain, and Harry felt bone-crushing relief unravel inside him. 

"What _did_ you mean then?" He asked, tilting his head like he always did when he was intrigued in something. 

Draco flushed at the question and dropped Harry's gaze for a moment, looking down at his shoes.

"I just..I didn't think you'd..I didn't want to tell you.." He tried to explain in three different ways, and managed to do it in precisely none of them, but Harry could twig what it was he was talking about.

"Well I do." He assured, biting his lip on a smile. 

"Yes he does." Another mellow voice sounded and startled them apart. The two whipped around, only to find Hermione and Ron watching them with fond smiles, holding a bucket of water and several sponges in their arms. 

"He really, _really_ does Malfoy." Ron followed up on Hermione's statement, placing the bucket of water down. 

"Don't mind us really, keep doing what you're doing, we're just here on our detention duties." Hermione waved them off, and turned away, dipping the sponge into the water and starting to scrub the windows. 

"Pretend we aren't here at all." Ron hummed over his shoulder, copying her actions.

Harry snorted, and turned to Draco, who seemed just as bewildered, but pleased.

"Mind skipping class today?" He arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

"No he doesn't." Hermione's voice floated over to them, and Ron nodded frantically.

"Of course Malfoy doesn't mind." He confirmed, not once taking his eyes off the window he was washing.

Draco attempted to scowl at them, but Harry noticed the tick of his lips that curled it into a smile rather than a scowl. He huffed:

"As a matter of fact I _do_ mind." He said, just to be contrary to the two, but taking Harry up to his dorm all the same. 

"That was very childish." Harry remarked before Draco had shoved him onto the bed and proceeded to show him just how much he didn't _actually_ mind.

~

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> The message I'd like this fic to send is:
> 
> Don't EVER be ashamed of who you are or of expressing yourself. If you are in a situation where that isn't possible, I hope you find a way out and soon, you deserve happiness. If there are people in your life trying to put you down or "fix" you, cut them out. There's nothing wrong with you, and don't ever let anyone convince you of it. You're your most beautiful when you're precisely yourself, never forget!
> 
> Much love,  
> Eva (Evie)
> 
> Find more on my [Tumblr](https://missdrarrydawn.tumblr.com/)


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